


no grave can hold my body down

by soleilouis



Series: haunted house [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, M/M, mentions of death/haunted things but it's all pretty tame, spooky fluff what a great genre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleilouis/pseuds/soleilouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry and louis find themselves stuck in an old haunted house. it may or may not be the fault of three friendly matchmaker ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no grave can hold my body down

**Author's Note:**

> ‘tis the season for me to spontaneously decide to write spooky fic while avoiding all responsibilities! happy halloween. :) 
> 
> "this wasn't meant to be so long/schmoopy" my famous last words. thank you to amazing pals that helped me with this and always brainstormed happily. know nothing, own nothing, all mistakes are my own, i’m a mess etc etc. this has been only very briefly edited/brit picked, so please forgive any mistakes. also, i’m not sure that a lit cigarette can ignite a fire directly after coming into contact with gasoline, really, but. pretend. for halloween. the v fitting title is from hozier’s work song.

Louis brings an extra six-pack of beer to their Thursday movie night which, in hindsight, was probably to blame for all of this. 

He’s already had four beers (plus the mixed drink he had at dinner) when Gemma says, “I’ve got a dare for you,” to nobody in particular. 

Harry giggles, bringing a hand to his mouth. His cheeks are rosy pink and Louis knows he’s already drunk. He’s had just as much as Louis, but he’s a notorious lightweight and he barely had any of his dinner. Harry’s leaning most of his weight against Louis’ side, the two of them sharing a blanket that they’ve grabbed from the couch. 

They’re all sat on the living room floor in Harry and Louis’ flat - Louis isn’t sure what time it is, but he’s sure it’s nearing midnight by now. His head feels a bit fuzzy, he’s not too proud to admit. 

“What is it, Gem?” Harry asks, poking his sister’s cheek. She topples over dramatically which Harry finds absolutely delightful. 

“There’s this-- Harry, stop,” Gemma squawks, batting at the hand still trying to poke at her cheek. “Listen. There’s a house, few blocks away from here. Me and my friend were over there the other night.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at her, urging her to go on. Her words sound a little jumbled - Louis isn’t sure if it’s the way she’s speaking or the way he’s hearing them. 

“‘s supposed to be, like, way haunted. It’s been there for ages, and they’ve got it all boarded up. Never torn it down though.” She shrugs. 

Louis’ head swims a bit. He can feel the shake of Harry’s shoulders when he laughs. 

“So?” 

“So,” Gemma says slowly with a grin. “I dare you to go in there. ‘ave a look around.” 

Louis still isn’t sure which one of them she’s even talking to, and he definitely isn’t sure what she’s on about. “What?”

“Just go in and explore the place. I’ll give you both a tenner or something. Unless, of course, you’re too scared.” She smirks wickedly. 

Louis scoffs, and the alcohol in his system makes him want to puff out his chest at the challenge. He’s also a bit offended that she doubts his bravery, honestly. Louis seems to remember a time when he and Harry were in secondary school, and Gemma got herself stuck high up in a tree. She’d climbed higher than she ever had before, and got too scared to make her way back down. Someone had to climb up there and coax her to come down, and that someone had been Louis. He’d been scared as hell, but he still did it, because it was his best friend’s sister. He had maybe wanted to impress Harry a bit, but still. That was the first time she’d met Louis. 

He almost reminds her of this, but Harry opens his mouth first. 

“I’ll do it if Louis comes with me.” 

Louis turns his head to look at Harry, quickly scanning his face. Harry’s eyes are bright from the alcohol and he smiles at Louis a little too happily. 

As if Louis even had a chance.

“Yeah, alright.” He turns to Gemma, squinting. “But I want more than a tenner.” 

__

The house - mansion, really - is huge, and Louis feels like he’s seen it before. It’s not a completely crazy idea, as it really is just a few blocks away from their flat. It’s set back off of the road quite a bit, though, with a long winding driveway leading up to it. The outside is a dark olive color, and there are windows boarded up on the second story. There’s a wrap around porch, broken ceramic pots loitering most of the deck, apparently holding plants at some point. It’s got a certain charm to it, Louis thinks.

Louis isn’t sure how long the house has been here. He and Harry had tried to google it as much as they could this morning, to distract themselves from the their hangovers. It didn’t help much at all, much to their dismay, since they couldn’t even view the house from street view maps on the internet. Odd. 

“Christ,” Harry breathes out. Louis watches him turn his head to look back at Gemma, who is waiting in the car to make sure they even walk up to the house. 

They’ve made the bet that they’ll stay until an hour after sundown, if they can. Louis knows they can, it’s just a stupid house, but Gemma seems to have her own reservations about the whole thing. They’ve both got fully charged cell phones and a bottle of water each, plus a backpack that Harry filled with things that are a mystery to Louis. Gemma told them to call her if they chickened out and she’d come get them, otherwise she’d see them when it was dark.

Louis gulps. 

“Ready, yeah?” Louis says, his voice shaking just a bit. 

He’s not nervous or anything - it’s just because it’s cold. It’s the middle of October, and it is perfectly normal to get a bit chilly and shiver. He’s not, like, scared at all.

Harry clearly doesn’t buy whatever Louis’ trying to tell himself in his own head, because he smirks and rolls his eyes. Bastard. “Yeah, c’mon. You can grab my arm if you want.” 

“Shut up,” Louis mumbles under his breath. 

He does grab Harry’s arm, but only for Harry’s sake, of course. 

They both turn and wave at Gemma, Harry flipping her the bird when she slides a finger across the front of her neck slowly, mocking them. She starts making her way down the driveway just as they get to the front door. 

Harry grabs the door knob, jiggling it a bit before they both hear something _click_. Harry pushes the door open easily and he lets out a slow breath. They both continue standing on the porch, just looking in. Neither of them speak or look at each other, and Louis wonders if Harry is starting to get nervous now that they’re actually here, cautiously peering inside. 

“After you,” Louis says, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Harry looks over at him and rolls his eyes, taking the first step inside the house. The floorboards creak underneath his foot, which Louis finds to be a bit cliche. The sun is still shining brightly outside for now, and the unboarded windows on the first floor let in enough light to illuminate the downstairs. Louis is thankful, now, that Harry was smart enough to grab flashlights from the gas station on the way here for them to use later. He doesn’t think this house would all be quite so charming in pitch blackness. 

Louis isn’t sure what he expects once they walk inside the house and shut the door, exactly. Maybe a cloud of dust rising from the hardwood floor or the walls collapsing suddenly. It seems relatively normal except for being completely and eerily quiet. 

“‘s actually pretty gorgeous,” Harry says, turning on his heels to look around at what Louis assumes was once the living room. 

There’s a large fireplace on the far wall, with a giant painting setting on the mantle above it. The paint has faded a lot, and some of the canvas has been torn, so Louis can’t tell what it used to be. There is framed art covering a lot of the walls, now that he looks around. There’s some furniture, most of it covered in white sheets that have seemed to collect their fair amount of dust over the last however many years, but mostly the room is empty.

Harry’s right, though. It’s one of the most complex and beautiful buildings Louis has ever been in. The designs of the wallpaper are unlike anything you’d see in any modern house in London, and there are beautifully constructed archways leading into every room that breaks off from the living area. 

“Whoever lived here must’ve been, like, loaded.” Louis laughs. 

“I wonder what happened to ‘em,” Harry says quietly, his forehead creasing in the way that it does when he’s pondering something. He shrugs. “Want to walk through this floor while there’s still some light?” 

Louis shrugs. It’s not like they’ve got much else to do for the next few hours. Louis slides his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 4:37. 

He follows closely behind Harry, only glancing down at his bum a couple of times. To be fair, it’s not his fault that Harry wore his tightest pair of jeans to go into a fucking abandoned house. He’s just about to slide his eyes down Harry’s body again, guilty as he may feel, when Harry turns around. 

“This is the kitchen, I guess.” 

It’s, unsurprisingly, a big kitchen. There’s an empty space where a refrigerator should be, and the counters are cracked and full of dust, but it’s obvious that it used to be something really beautiful. Louis clears his throat. He feels dirty just being in here.

Harry jumps, suddenly, a tiny squeak escaping his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, his curls falling back into place immediately. “Shit.”

“What, Haz?”

“Nothing, just--.” Harry shakes his hair out, pushing it off of his forehead. “Felt a chill, ‘s all.” 

Louis raises one eyebrow. “Maybe it was a _ghost_ ,” he says, very seriously. He widens his eyes comically and looks at Harry. 

Harry bites his bottom lip. His lips are too pink and pretty for his own good, honestly. His lower lip somehow looks even more plump when he takes it between his teeth nervously. Louis tries to ignore it. 

“Do you think?” Harry asks quietly. 

Louis is silent for a few moments, staring at Harry before jumping forward abruptly and shouting, making the taller boy jump. 

“Oh, fuck off, Louis.” Harry pouts, stepping off to the next room in a huff. 

He wore his big clunky boots, Louis notices. The heavy sound that the heels make when he stomps across the hardwood floor reverberates against the empty china cabinet. The whole room seems to shake with it. It adds to the whole tantrum, really. It’s like the house is on Harry’s side. 

Louis laughs and follows Harry to the next room, which appears to be something like a dining room. “Oh, c’mon.” 

Harry turns his back to Louis, clearly in the middle of a proper strop. Louis rolls his eyes, trying not to be endeared. They’ve been best friends for almost six years, and he’s never gotten any better at not being weak for Harry. 

“I was only messing with you, H,” Louis says sweetly.

He walks up behind Harry and wraps his arms around his middle, resting his cheek between Harry’s shoulder blades. Those six years have also taught him that Harry is his most forgiving when he’s being cuddled, much to Louis’ gain. Harry relaxes into the touch, sighing, and pats his hands over Louis’ clasped in front of his stomach. 

Louis pulls away, giving his best apologetic smile when Harry turns around. Harry shakes his head fondly, then walks passed Louis to look around the room. This new room is huge, and there’s a giant dining table in the very center. There’s a chandelier, also huge, hanging above the table, the obvious centerpiece of the room. It’s got crystals hanging from every inch, and Louis gapes at it. After a moment, Harry scoffs. 

“If I’d know that a chandelier would shut you up, I would’ve gotten one for you, like, years ago.” He nudges his elbow against Louis’ side and smiles brilliantly, pleased with his own joke. 

Louis smiles tightly. “Ha ha,” he deadpans.” He pinches Harry’s arm, moving to look around some more. 

He’s peering into another china cabinet, this one full of expensive looking dishes, when he hears the tinkling of crystals. He freezes. 

“Uh.”

Louis turns around to look at Harry, who is staring silently up at the chandelier. It’s swinging, ever so slightly, the crystals that hang from it knocking together. The quiet chimes bounce off the walls. Louis can’t help but stare up at the chandelier too, and they watch it until it stops moving. 

When Louis looks at Harry again, his eyes are wide. He clears his throat. “What.”

“Did you do that?” Louis asks. 

“No.” Harry shakes his head, bewildered. “What? How could I have?” 

Louis shakes his head slowly at first, then shakes it once quickly to bring himself back to reality. “Weird. Must’ve been a breeze.”

He exits the room swiftly, making his way back towards the living room where they left their backpack. 

Harry is nice enough not to mention that there is very clearly not a breeze coming through this house.

Louis stops in his tracks when he reaches the living room again. “Haz? Hazza?” 

Harry’s footsteps come up behind him before they stop suddenly. Louis’ breathing is the only sound in the room. 

“Hey, where’s our backpack?”

Louis closes his eyes. “Fuck. I was hoping you’d taken it.” 

He looks back at Harry, who’s shaking his head. “No.”

They’ve only been here for about an hour, and Louis is trying very hard not to let his mind play tricks on him. It’s an old house, and he doesn’t want to be here in the first place - he’s letting it get to him, is all. Harry’s clearly freaked out, and over nothing, so Louis can’t let a couple of little things bother him. It’s just a house. He looks around the room, spotting the backpack resting against the backside of couch. 

“There it is,” he says with a sigh. Harry follows Louis’ line of sight and spots it too, walking over to pick it up. 

“How’d it get over there?” Harry asks, his eyes wide yet again. Louis doesn’t think he’s blinked since they walked in the door. 

Louis shrugs nonchalantly, making grabby hands for the backpack. “Dunno, I must’ve put it over there and forgotten.” 

He’s not sure how it got there himself, if he’s honest. 

They get out their flashlights, to prepare, since the sun has started setting slowly. Harry reaches into the backpack and pulls out a small orange. 

“Seriously?” Louis asks, laughing. Leave it to Harry to bring fruit to a haunted house. 

“What?” 

Harry starts peeling the orange immediately, not even looking up at Louis. He tosses a piece into his mouth happily, and Louis bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. 

“Nothing.”

They find the least dusty spot on the ground and sit down, pressed up against each other. Louis gets out his phone and, since he still has almost full battery, starts playing a game. Harry pulls up a book on his own phone, Louis sees when he glances over - he knows they’re both trying to distract themselves. Only a couple more hours now. 

As the sun is sinking into the ground, Louis looks over at Harry, trying to see what he’s reading. They’ve turned on their flashlights and set them on the floor, pointing up to give off light into the space around them. 

Harry shifts, tucking his chin against his chest to look down more comfortably at the phone in his lap. He always sticks his tongue out a little bit when he concentrates or reads, and it’s one of Louis’ favorite quirks about him. He looks like a very determined toddler. 

“What’re you reading?” Louis says, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

Something in the house creaks, and Louis tenses. He squeezes his eyes tightly and breathes out through his nose. _It’s just an old house,_ he reminds himself. 

“Uh--” Harry starts before clearing his throat. “It’s that same Charles Bukowski that I was reading the other day.” 

“Hmm,” Louis hums in response, digging his chin into Harry’s shoulder lightly, making him giggle. Louis turns to lay his cheek there instead, sighing. “‘m hungry.”

“We could order a pizza,” Harry says. Louis can hear the smirk in his voice. 

Louis reaches out and pinches his thigh. They both laugh before falling into comfortable silence again. 

They spend the last hour of their dare like that, Harry reading his book and Louis resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t think he could fall asleep like that, but feeling the rise and fall of Harry’s shoulder when he breathes is keeping Louis’ mind off of every creak and crack he hears in the house. 

Harry slides his phone from his pocket once they realize it’s been at least an hour since the sun went down. Louis breathes a sigh of relief when Harry dials Gemma’s number and puts the call on speakerphone. 

Gemma laughs before she even says anything. “Hello?”

“Are you here?” Harry asks before someone laughs in the background, and there’s a lot of movement on Gemma’s end of the phone. “Gemma? Where are you?”

“‘m just running some errands. Mum needed more bagels because _someone_ keeps bloody eating them all when they visit,” she says, stressing that the someone is clearly Harry. 

Louis laughs against Harry’s shoulder. “Well hurry up, yeah?” Harry says, and Gemma sing songs that she won’t be too much longer. It’s obvious that she’s stalling, trying to make them sweat. 

“You’re not scared, are you?” she adds, but doesn’t get a response because Harry promptly ends the call. 

Louis stands, dusting off his bum. Harry looks up at him quizzically. “Where are you going?”

“We can wait outside, can’t we? This place is giving me the creeps now.” Louis shudders. 

The house was one thing in the daylight, but in the dark, Louis isn’t afraid to say that it’s massively creepy. The light from their flashlights casts ghostly shadows all across the living room, and Louis doesn’t like not knowing what’s in the dark beyond their area of safety. 

Harry nods and stands, too, picking up the backpack from the floor. They shuffle quickly towards the front door, pointing their flashlights in front of them to make sure the locks aren’t fastened. 

They’re still standing there a few moments later, and Louis peeks around Harry’s body. “What’re you waiting for, Curly?” 

Harry tries to turn the doorknob, but it doesn’t twist at all. Louis furrows his brow, watching Harry use both hands to attempt opening the door. The knob doesn’t turn either way. Louis steps around Harry and checks the locks, dropping his shoulders in defeat when he realizes that they’re all undone. He tries the knob himself, and his hands may be a little sweaty, but the thing won’t budge.

“What the fuck.” 

Louis grabs the doorknob and twists it violently, grunting and using all of his strength to try to move it for at least five minutes. He huffs out in frustration before kicking at the door. 

“Oh god,” Harry breathes out, putting his hands on his hips. “We’re stuck. We’re those people that get stuck in a haunted house, oh my god. This is how horror movies start, fuck.”

He’s practically hyperventilating now, so Louis shushes him and rubs a hand on Harry’s arm. He doesn’t know if they’re truly well and stuck, honestly. There’s not another door, at least not that they saw while they were exploring, and the windows are so old they probably won’t budge either. Louis’ starting to sweat, a bit.

“We’re not, Haz, don’t worry. Just call Gemma. She’ll come help. Maybe it’ll open from the outside, okay?” He squeezes Harry’s forearm. “Don’t worry.” 

Louis tries the door again, willing it to open. It still doesn’t move, and the knob itself has started to feel like ice, making Louis take his hand off of it quickly. 

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No, no. I’ll never live it down if I call my big sister freaking out, then have to ask her for help. She’ll call us babies.” Harry pouts. 

Louis ponders this. He knows Harry’s right. Gemma’s not cruel, by any means - she would help them, no questions asked. The teasing that would come for weeks after, though, is very much a concern. 

“Okay, you’re right. Fuck.” Louis blows out a huff of air, shifting the hair that’d fallen into his eyes. “What do we do?”

Harry lifts his phone. He types something out quickly before holding the phone up to Louis’ face. The bright light makes Louis’ squint. He reads the text to Gemma and thinks that Harry must have gone mad in the last two minutes. 

**if we stay the whole night, what will you give us ? .x**

“Are you joking? No.” Louis’ face is blank. 

Harry’s shoulders slump. “Lou, c’mon. We’re clearly stuck at least for a little bit, yeah? Maybe it’ll be fun. It hasn’t been so bad! Plus,” he says, his eyes scanning over a new text on his phone, “she said she’ll give us both fifty pounds if we stay the night.” 

Louis’ ears perk up at that as if he were a dog that’s just heard a cat’s meow. Fifty pounds would be nice, as he’s supposed to take a trip back home next weekend and has let his bank account go embarrassingly low as of late. He shuts his eyes and runs a hand over his face. It’ll take them a while to figure out how to get out of here anyway, he reckons. Fuck Harry and his charming ways. 

“God, fine. But I’m using you as my pillow later.” 

Harry smiles wide before bringing his thumb to his mouth, taking the corner of it between his teeth. “What do we do in the morning if the door still won’t open?”

Louis shrugs. “Call for help, I guess. We’ll have to, I think.”

Harry nods, knowing Louis is right. He types another response to Gemma, telling her that they’ll call in the morning, then. Gemma sends back a crying laughing emoji, which only bruises Louis’ ego a tiny bit. 

Louis thinks there is probably a way to get out of here right now if they really wanted to, but neither of them seem too opposed to just sticking out the night, so Louis doesn’t bother brainstorming. It’s a little bit of a pride thing, he thinks. If he were alone, he would be breaking down the door within minutes in a complete panic. With Harry, though, he feels more calm than he probably should, considering the situation. 

So, that settles it. He’ll play Bejeweled on his phone until he gets tired, then will promptly cuddle into Harry’s side for safety and warmth purposes only, and fall asleep. At the end of it, he’ll be fifty pounds richer. It doesn’t seem so bad. 

__

It’s really quite awful, is the thing. 

Things are alright, as alright as they can be when you’re stuck in an abandoned house against your own will, up until it nears two or so in the morning. Louis hears shuffling coming from the kitchen as he’s reading an article on his phone, and he looks up quickly to see if Harry’s gotten up without him noticing. Neither of them have even attempted sleep, too highly strung to rest. Harry’s head is leaning back against the wall, and he’s completely immersed in whatever he’s looking at on his phone. 

Louis breathes in and out slowly, calming himself. _It’s probably just a mouse_ , he thinks. That thought doesn’t actually calm him down at all, since he’s pretty terrified of mice as well, but. It’s better than any alternatives he can think of. 

It’s hard to ignore the loud slamming noise that comes from the kitchen a few moments later, though. Louis jumps and reaches out for Harry’s arm instinctually. He can feel how tense Harry is underneath his grip. 

“What is that?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry. 

Harry rolls his eyes fondly. “I’m sat two inches away from you. I know about as much as you do, pal.” 

Louis looks through the archway that leads into the kitchen, trying to make out any movement. He picks up his flashlight slowly and points it in the same direction, but he only sees the same cabinets and counters as before. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Harry sighs. “C’mon, just try to ignore it. ‘m sure it’s nothing.”

Louis nods. He does try after that, he really does, but it gets a little harder to focus on anything else when he hears what sounds like a distinct laugh.

Harry drops his phone into his lap suddenly, confirming that Louis isn’t just hearing things.

“Did you--”

“Y-yeah.” 

They’re both completely still, listening for another of the same sound. It comes again almost a minute later, faintly and seeming far off, but it’s definitely laughter. It sounds cheerful, like someone’s just made a rather funny joke. 

Louis feels like he’s going to throw up. He knows it’s just someone messing with them, probably, but he’s proper scared now. He’s dropped his tough guy act, and seemingly so has Harry. They both scoot closer together wordlessly. 

“This won’t be so bad,” Louis says, mocking Harry’s slow, syrupy voice. “It’ll be fun, Lou! Trust me! ‘s just a haunted as fuck house!” 

“Hey,” Harry drawls. “We were stuck anyway, you wanker. It’s probably just Gemma messing with us. Just ignore--”

“Okay, alright,” Louis says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Let’s just talk about something, yeah? We still have a while before the sun comes up, and I’m getting less thrilled by the minute that we’re stuck here until then.” 

Harry gives him a small smile, but indulges him. Bless his best friend for not commenting on the sudden shakiness to Louis’ voice.

“So.” Harry claps his hands together. “What’s up?”

Louis groans. “I hate you.”

Harry laughs, knocking his foot against Louis’. They’re sitting against the wall in the living room, their legs stretched in front of them. Once they realized they were staying the night in here, Harry opened his backpack and pulled out a blanket that he had brought on a whim (“I didn’t know if it’d be cold in here,” he’d said). Louis didn’t even know they had a blanket that small. They’d spread it out to sit on earlier and haven’t moved from their spot since. 

“I’m freezing,” Louis whines about an hour later. He’s rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm himself. Harry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer, which was not at all Louis’ intention. Not at all. 

“Thanks, Hazza,” he says, leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder. 

Just then, there’s a loud crackle and pop that comes from the fireplace across from them. Louis whips his head up, staring into it, waiting. Harry’s hand freezes on Louis’ shoulder. 

A flame starts in the middle of the wood that Louis didn’t even notice was there before, and within seconds the entire fireplace is lit up with a fairly well-done fire. 

He hears Harry gasp next to him, but no sooner is Louis standing up, dusting off his pants. 

“Nope, no fucking way,” Louis says frantically. “I’m out.”

Harry isn’t even looking at him, his eyes transfixed on the fire that has come out of absolutely fucking nowhere. There’s no way that anybody messing with them could’ve done that, Louis knows, and he’s not about to wait around to find out how that just happened. 

“I’ll bust the door down myself. Let’s go, Harry,” Louis says a bit louder, bending down to grab at the backpack when a voice makes him freeze completely. 

A voice that very much does not belong to Harry Styles. 

“Aw, c’mon, we were just getting started!” someone shouts. Louis has no idea where it’s coming from - it sounds like the voice is just seeping out of the walls. 

Someone else laughs brightly. “That was even quite a nice gesture, if I say so myself.”

Louis’ knees buckle and he drops back to the floor unceremoniously, crowding into Harry’s space and wrapping his arms around his waist like a scared toddler. Harry’s breaths are coming quick and shallow, and Louis can practically feel his heart beating hard against his chest. Neither of them do so much as attempt to scream. 

The voices continue to laugh together, and Louis feels angry, suddenly. Whoever, _whatever_ , this is, thinks this is all some big joke. He and Harry are good people, like, they always volunteer to tutor people at university, and they’ve only had a noise complaint in their apartment complex once. Twice, if you count their New Year’s Eve party that a neighbor had nearly blown a fuse over. He doesn’t know why this is happening to them. 

Harry sinks down further on the wall. “I think I’m going to pass out,” he whispers quietly. 

Louis turns to him, the strange voices and this whole situation suddenly forgotten. “Hey, no.” He speaks softly, his own voice going more fond than he’d like to admit. “Stay with me, yeah. You and I both know I’m useless by myself.” 

Harry huffs out an unamused laugh, and Louis runs a soothing hand over Harry’s curls. The voices are quiet now, and Louis can hear how hard the two of them are breathing in the silence. He tucks his face against Harry’s neck. There’s nothing they can do, really, except cling to each other. Louis knows that the first priority, currently, is to get Harry to relax. 

Louis starts humming, his lips vibrating against Harry’s neck, making him giggle. Louis smiles, nearly forgetting that he’s probably about to dramatically die like the main character in a horror film, when the voices come back. 

This time, there’s a loud thud and the sound of what can only be someone falling down stairs, before another round of uproarious laughter. It seems like there are 3 separate voices now, Louis notes. They’re outnumbered, which makes this situation just _that_ much more comforting. 

“Holy shit, Liam,” someone says. “Walk, much?”

Louis tightens his hold on Harry’s waist and squeezes his eyes shut, his face still pressed against him. 

“Maybe if Zayn hadn’t left his stupid box there, I wouldn’t have lost my footing,” the other voice responds. 

A third voice scoffs. “Watch your tone, Payne.” 

If anything, they don’t exactly _sound_ like serial killers or anything. Louis still isn’t even sure where the voices are coming from. It feels like they’re coming from everywhere, like the sound is just surrounding them. They’re laughing again, seeming like they’re having a great time. Louis’ wishes he could join in on the party that he and Harry are clearly oblivious too. 

Harry shines his flashlight in the direction of the stairs suddenly and Louis yelps. 

Much to his surprise and somewhat relief, there’s nothing there. It makes something buzz nervously inside of him, though, because now he’s got absolutely no clue where the voices are coming from. 

“Who--” Harry squeaks, his voice more high pitched than Louis’ ever heard it. In any other circumstances, Louis would take the piss. Harry clears his throat. “Who’s there?”

“Harry,” Louis warns, gritting his teeth. He pulls back to look at him fully, before turning his head when someone actually responds. Christ. 

“Wow, time for introductions already,” one of them says cheerfully, and it sounds like they clap their hands together. “You can call me Niall.” 

“This is so weird,” Louis whispers, and Harry actually laughs. Louis does feel more relaxed than he did a minute ago, now that he’s a little less concerned for his life and is now mainly just perplexed. He still isn’t exactly at ease, because what the fuck, this cannot be happening. 

“Hi, uh, Niall.” Harry lifts a hand in a wave. He closes his eyes momentarily before gulping and opening them again. “My name is Harry, and this is Louis.”

“Oh my god,” Louis mumbles. 

Harry is charming in any situation, Louis swears. Always the polite one, he is. 

“Look how friendly this one is, lads,” the voice - Niall, apparently - says. He sounds absolutely thrilled. 

“I’m Zayn,” another voice chimes in. He’s got a completely different accent than Niall does, and it’s easy to tell them apart. 

“Liam.” The third voice is deeper than the other two. Louis shivers, not quite able to wrap his head around this. 

He feels like they’re coping rather wonderfully for two guys hearing mysterious voices that are coming from who knows where, in a house that is clearly haunted. Louis reminds himself to give them both a pat on the back later, if they make it out of here alive. His throat feels very dry. 

“Nice to--” Harry stops, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe his lips are moving. “Nice to meet you all.” 

Louis isn’t sure what Harry’s game is here, but he assumes it probably has a lot to do with keeping them from being murdered, which Louis thinks is nice of him. 

Harry nudges Louis’ side roughly, and Louis grunts, looking at him. Harry raises his eyebrows, motioning out into the dead air. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, emotionless. “Cheers.” 

Louis can hear the three of them whispering amongst themselves, their voices seeming far off again. It goes silent for a minute, and Harry and Louis exchange quick glances. 

“Anyways,” Niall says suddenly, his voice sounding like he should be standing right next to them. 

Harry and Louis both jump, and Harry grabs Louis’ hand. He interlocks their fingers, gripping tightly. Louis’ cheeks heat up. He can hear one of the voices snickering. 

Harry uses his other hand to point the flashlight around the room wildly. Nothing, and nobody, is there. 

“You might as well stop looking, mate,” Zayn says, his voice coming from right next to Louis. They both jump again, screaming this time. Louis is not even ashamed at how shrill his scream is. 

“You’d think they’d be quicker on the uptake.” One of them, Louis isn’t sure which, says, and they all laugh. 

“So, like--” Harry starts, still moving his flashlight around frantically. “You’re invisible?” 

“Getting warmer,” Liam mumbles, amused. Louis is getting really tired of not being in on the joke. 

But he knows, now, he’s caught on with what’s happening, he gets it. It doesn’t mean he’s going to say it out loud. It’s-- Well, it’s ridiculous, for one. And it would make it all the more real to actually speak it. He shuts his eyes tightly again, wishing he could somehow transport the two of them back into their cozy, warm flat. Maybe even have a kettle of tea brewing waiting for them. 

“Gh--” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off. 

“Don’t. That’s ridiculous, Harry.” 

Harry scoffs. “Right, because all of this is just completely normal so far. Suggesting that these are ghosts would be absurd.” 

Louis can’t help but smile at Harry’s tone. He gets quite snarky when he’s nervous. 

“Ding ding ding!” Niall shouts, and they’re suddenly all clapping. “These are smart, it usually takes the other ones ages to come to that conclusion.”

To be fair, he and Harry did just watch a movie last weekend about a ghost infiltrated house. Louis starts to think about that before he realizes what Niall has just said. 

“Others?”

Harry stiffens beside him. 

Zayn - Louis thinks it’s Zayn, at least - laughs. “What, you think you two are the first ones brave enough to come in here?” 

Louis furrows his brow. He wishes he could just see them. He wants to know if they look normal, like him and Harry, or if they look like little white, see-through blobs floating around. He’s never seen a ghost before, so he’s just a little bit curious. He still feels pretty terrified, if he’s honest with himself, and he can tell that Harry feels the same with the way his breathing hasn’t slowed since the fire started. The first that is still burning bright, that is. 

There’s suddenly a lot of commotion, and Louis tenses. One of the couches slides closer to them, and the sheet lifts off of it and hovers in the air. Harry and Louis stay put, both of them too stunned to move, and the couch moves even closer. Soon, it’s touching the bottoms of their feet. Louis and Harry look at each other with wide eyes. 

One of the ghosts clears their throat and the couch moves forward to bump against their feet incessantly, and Louis rolls his eyes. They’re a bossy bunch. 

He’s too scared not to listen to them, though, still unsure of what the endgame is here, so he nudges Harry before standing up. They both sit cautiously on the same couch cushion, their sides pressed together. 

The couch slides quickly to move in front of the fireplace, and Louis’ shrill scream makes another appearance. He always thought he’d be a lot more calm in a situation like this, but he clearly has given himself too much credit.

Harry laces their fingers together again, like it’s nothing, his palm sweaty underneath Louis’. 

They’re both staring, dazed, into the fire when Louis notices movement out of the corner of his eye. The bookshelf next to the fireplace is shifting to the left, and behind it a door comes into view. Louis’ mouth drops open, and he suddenly wonders if maybe he’s actually being filmed right now. Maybe Gemma signed the both of them up for some sort of hidden camera Halloween special, where two unsuspecting guys get the living shit scared out of them on national television. It would make for great tv, Louis must admit. 

He’s thinking about what his friends at uni will say once they see him on the show when Harry notices the door. “Holy shit,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

The previously hidden door creaks open slowly, anything beyond the doorway out of their sight. It’s dark in there, whatever it is. Louis has no intentions of going in. 

Chatty as they’d been before, the ghosts sure are quiet now, Louis thinks. As if hearing his thoughts (he almost wouldn’t be surprised, at this point), Liam speaks up. “What, scared of a bit of adventure?” 

Louis rolls his eyes, but Harry starts to move his hand away from Louis’. 

“Harry,” he says quietly, sounding more pleading than he intended. 

Harry smiles at him warmly, and nods. “It’s alright, Lou. What else are we gonna do? We’ll be together.”

He’s got a point. 

Louis stands and Harry does too, before leading the way towards the secret door. Harry’s still holding onto his flashlight, and he turns it on before stepping inside. Louis follows close behind him, the backs of his knuckles grazing the small of Harry’s back. It grounds him somehow to be touching Harry, reminds him that somehow this is actually a real thing that is happening in his life. 

“Oh shit,” Harry says, and Louis is about to ask what he sees when something trips the both of them, sending them stumbling forward into the room. 

The door closes behind them, because of course it does, and when they hear the distinct sound of a lock clicking, Louis groans. He probably should’ve seen that coming.

The room is fairly empty, aside from another, larger couch. One of the walls is covered in drawings, seemingly all done by the same person. Harry moves the flashlight’s beam across every inch of the wall, not a single inch of the actual wall’s surface exposed - the drawings are all done on paper, some looking more old and wilted than others, and they cover the entirety of space. 

Harry flops down onto the couch with a sigh, patting the space next to him. Louis doesn’t even realize he’s chewing his fingernails until he’s sat next to Harry and his hand is being pulled from his mouth. 

“Now what?” Louis asks. 

Harry shrugs. “Doesn’t seem like they want to hurt us, whoever they are. This is wild,” he says, laughing. “Maybe we should just wait it out.” 

He seems too understanding of this whole situation, Louis thinks. But then again, Louis is feeling quite tired and suddenly he’s fine with just trusting Harry and going along with this. 

He yawns. “I guess. What the fuck,” he says and then they’re both laughing. After a moment, they’re in hysterics, leaning against each other and gasping for air as they laugh. Neither of them can quite believe this is actually happening, apparently. 

Louis doesn’t remember sliding underneath Harry’s arm again, but suddenly his head feels very heavy and he’s resting it against Harry’s chest as they sink further into the couch. It’s not like they don’t cuddle constantly back at home, and he’s feeling quite vulnerable at the moment. He yawns again, throwing an arm across Harry’s stomach and relaxing. 

Harry mumbles something about them taking a quick nap, but Louis barely registers it before his eyes are slowly closing and he can feel himself drifting to sleep. 

They’re woken abruptly by the sound of fists pounding on the door. Louis jerks away from Harry’s body and he rubs at his eyes, feeling confused. Maybe all of that was a dream after all.

Suddenly the door swings open, with nobody on the other side, and Louis realizes that this is all still very real, then. Great.

“Hey, the sun’s up,” Harry whispers. 

Louis looks through the open door, and realizes Harry’s right. The house is full of morning light, finally, and Louis wants to cry with relief. He sees the front door, and finally realizes that they actually spent the entire night in this house. 

They can finally get the hell out of here. 

He tugs at Harry’s sleeve, nodding towards the door. Harry nods in understanding, and they both stand up, stretch, and walk back out into the living room. Louis makes quick to gather up their blanket and backpack (the blanket had already been folded, which Louis tries to ignore), motioning for Harry to help. Once Harry’s slung the backpack over his shoulder, Louis moves to the front door of the house. He breathes deeply once before reaching for the doorknob, twisting it. When it doesn’t move at all, he feels like he may actually cry this time.

“You’re kidding.” Harry drops the backpack to the ground with a loud thud. 

Someone clears their throat behind them, and they both whip around, unsurprisingly being met with nobody there. Louis had almost forgotten that they weren’t alone. “Going somewhere?”

It’s Niall. He’s smirking, Louis can tell, and that’s a weird thing to be able to hear in a ghost’s voice. It’s a weird thing to hear a ghost’s voice at all, though, he supposes.

It makes sense, suddenly, that the door was never stuck on its own in the first place. Of course. 

“You locked us in here, right?” Louis chirps, feeling brave. He doesn’t get any of this. 

Niall laughs, and it doesn’t sound cruel at all. “Well, we wouldn’t be very good ghosts if we didn’t mess with you a little bit.”

Harry scoffs at “a little bit”, and Louis smiles. 

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, appearing - or, _not_ appearing - out of nowhere. “It’s the only perk that comes with this, messing with people.”

“Not really what I’d call a perk, mate, gotta be honest.” 

Louis’ reached a point of insanity where he’s calling a ghost “mate”. Things are going really well. 

“Well, we could’ve just left you in that secret room forever, I suppose,” Zayn says, sounding dry, and Louis freezes. 

Niall laughs. “He’s kidding. Babe, don’t make them think we’re going to kill them, shit. We just wanted to keep you guys here, I guess.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows at the pet name, but relaxes a bit nonetheless. They don’t want to hurt them, at least. He thinks.

“Yeah, it‘s fun. Why should we let you go now?” Liam asks, a certain challenging tone to his voice. 

He shuffles closer to Harry. Louis isn’t sure why these ghosts want to keep them there, really, if they don’t want to hurt them. The two of them look at each other, having some sort of silent conversation with their eyes. They have to get out of here somehow. Now that it’s not a matter of the door being stuck on its own, it’s not like they can even ask Gemma for help. He doesn’t think she’ll believe them, even, if he explains that they’ve been locked in by three oddly friendly yet intimidating ghosts. 

Something lights up in Harry’s eyes, and he opens his mouth in a small ‘o’. 

“Well, we were just getting a bit hungry,” he says casually. “And, like, need to shower.” 

Louis’ lost so far, but he nods. “Yeah. Starving.”

“We were gonna come back later, but we wanted to get some food first,” Harry continues. Louis catches on, when Harry looks at him with wide eyes, encouraging him to help their case. 

“‘s not like we can cook something here, is all,” Louis adds. 

“Hmm,” Liam hums thoughtfully. “You’ll really come back?”

He sounds hopeful, and not in a we-still-have-plans-to-kill-you way. 

Harry nods vigorously. “Yeah, of course. I promise we’ll come back tonight if you just, like, let us leave for a bit. We’ll even bring back some food-- wait, do you eat? Like, human food?” 

“Human food,” Zayn repeats with a laugh. “Like we’re animals.” Louis doesn’t think this is exactly fair, since technically they could be animals for all they know. It’s not like they can see them at all. Zayn continues, “Yeah, Niall’s made sure to master how to still eat pizza, even in the afterlife.”

Afterlife, Louis muses. He’s curious what kind of ghosts these even are, and what they’re doing here. He’s formed a lot of questions over the last few hours, actually. Not curious enough to ask, but curious still. 

“We can bring pizza!” Harry says excitedly. He’s very convincing, Louis thinks proudly. “We’ll come back when the sun goes down, and stay again. We want to, like, explore more if you’ll let us.”

Charming them seems to be working, because Niall says, “Alright, yeah,” before the sound of a the front door opening makes them turn. 

The door slams quickly, and they both jump. 

“You promise you’ll come back?”

Louis gulps. “Yeah, we promise.”

This seems to satisfy the ghosts, because suddenly the door has opened all the way, and Harry and Louis are stepping outside without another word. The door shuts behind them, and they both sigh. Neither of them speak, they just start walking towards the driveway, continuing to walk once they’re there. 

They don’t waste any time calling Gemma when they get to the end of the driveway, waking her up and asking her to come get them. She’s there within ten minutes, only a couple of miles away, and he and Harry spend the drive back to their flat listening to Gemma ramble about how she can’t believe they actually did this. 

Louis still hasn’t come to terms with it himself, really.

__

He nearly chokes on his pizza, sure that he’s heard Harry wrong. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Well we have to get going soon, if we’re gonna make it there by sundown.” 

Harry has stood up from where they’ve been sitting on the floor of Louis’ bedroom, a box of pizza between them. They used some of their winnings from the dare to order themselves a very large, greasy pizza, reasoning that they deserved it after the bizarre night they had. 

Louis’ just wiping pizza sauce from his mouth when Harry says he’s going to shower so they can “go”. Go where, Louis’ not really sure. He has a hunch, though. 

“Make it where?”

Harry looks at Louis incredulously. “The house? Have you, like, forgotten already? I know you’re getting old, Lou, but honestly--”

Louis pinches Harry’s thigh, reaching up from his spot on the ground. Louis is only a couple of years older, barely, thank you very much. 

They both laugh for a moment before Louis shakes his head, understanding. Harry can’t be serious. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, we promised.” He shrugs, like there’s no other option. 

“Uh, yeah, to ghosts, Harry. Like, actual ghosts that locked us in their house, where they haunt, as ghosts. Why would we go back?”

Harry’s lips pull into a smile and he waves his hands around wildly, clearly amused by all of this. 

“They seemed nice! And, like, they want us to come back. Aren’t you just a little bit curious? I want to know why they’re there. ‘ve never met any ghosts before.” He smiles too big, looking like an excited child. 

Louis is so, so fond. 

“Right, but--” He shakes his head. No. This is crazy. “What if we get stuck again? What if there are _other_ ghosts in there that aren’t so nice?” 

Harry shrugs again, like none of this matters. “Dunno. Guess we find out.”

That sounds promising, Louis thinks.

“Louis,” Harry whines, dropping down to sit beside him again. “Now that we know they won’t, like, hurt us--. I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be fun?”

“This is what you said last time, and look how that turned out.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Okay, true. But I trust it, for some reason. I wouldn’t let you get hurt, ever, you know.”

Louis does know, which is why he sighs in defeat, dropping his chin against his chest. 

Harry knows that this means he’s won, as per usual, and he hugs Louis’ tightly. 

“Yes! I’ll pack us some fruit cups!”

Louis is a sucker for a fruit cup and Harry Styles, above all else.

__

It’s just passed sundown, and for some godforsaken reason, they’re standing on the porch of the mansion. Again. 

They drove themselves this time, not even letting Gemma, or anyone, know where they were going. 

“Do we, uh, knock?” Harry says, the confusion evident on his face. 

“I don’t know. Surely they’re home,” Louis deadpans, and Harry laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever told. Louis does not preen. 

Harry seems to decide against it, reaching out and opening the door slowly. He steps inside, and Louis sighs before following him. As soon as they’re passed the opening, the door closes on its own. They walk further into the living room, and it’s just as quiet as it was the first time they walked through that door. 

“Hello?” Harry calls out timidly. 

Harry did bring a box of pizza, true to his word as always, and he sets it on the coffee table. He steps back, joining Louis again, and they both stand there, waiting. 

Nothing happens. No voices come from the walls, and nothing moves. 

“Maybe we imagined the whole thing--” Louis starts, choking on his own words when someone walks through the archway from the kitchen. 

“Not gonna lie, lads, didn’t think you’d show.”

Harry and Louis both scream, still not completely expecting someone else to be here. Or, at least, Louis thinks it’s a someone. They both point their flashlights to see who’s joined them. 

The voice sounds like Niall from the night before, but whoever it is, they’re clearly not human like him and Harry. They look human enough, but there’s a slight transparency to their entire body that gives it away. They can’t see through him, exactly, but there’s a certain glow to him that makes him seem off. 

Louis gives the boy - man? - a look up and down. He’s got blonde hair that looks like it’s been attacked by a can of hairspray, sticking up in all directions. He’s got on black acid wash skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, with a letterman jacket on top of it.

He looks like he’s stepped out of another decade, which makes Louis laugh to himself. Seems about right. 

“Niall?” Harry asks, his voice rough. “Right? You’re--. You’re Niall.” 

Niall laughs, the same bright laugh from the night before. “A ghost walks out right in front of you, and you just-- holy shit, is that pizza?” 

His eyes widen and Louis stifles a laugh. He makes a beeline for the coffee table, and Harry and Louis both back up nervously. Louis can’t believe this is really happening. Hearing them was one thing, but seeing one of them in real life is surreal. It doesn’t feel quite as weird as it probably should, but then again, he may be too hyped up to really comprehend that he’s looking at a fucking ghost. 

“Sweet,” Niall says. “Haven’t had pizza in years.”

Louis wonders briefly how long Niall’s been here. He clears his throat, finally working up the nerve to speak. 

“Aren’t there more of you?” 

Harry sucks in a breath next to him. 

Niall nods. “Yeah, Zayn’s off somewhere drawing - he likes to do that at night - and Liam is in a mood.” He rolls his eyes. “So, he’s locked himself away for the time being.” 

A ghost with an attitude, Louis thinks. Incredible. 

Louis laughs, nodding in understanding. “This one here does the same thing,” he says, pointing a thumb at Harry. 

Harry pouts. “I do not.”

Niall’s laugh is truly delightful. It’s infectious in a way that makes you want to laugh with him. “Clearly.”

It’s then that Louis realizes they’re having casual small talk with a very much not alive ghost. He feels a chill move through his entire body. He watches Niall move across the room, taking the pizza box with him as he goes into the kitchen. He sets the box on the counter before resting his hand next to it, leaning his weight (if he has any weight) against the marble countertop.

It’s perplexing to Louis, more than anything, that Niall isn’t falling straight through the counter right now. From what he knows, ghosts should be able to walk through walls and move their hands through anything solid. 

“How can you touch that?” He asks curiously, motioning towards the counter. 

“I’m dead, don’t worry, just not as completely translucent like the movies. I can be invisible when I want to be, and walk through things as I please. But I can, you know, be pretty normal, too.”

Louis nods. He thinks Niall looks normal, to be honest. You can only tell that there’s something off about him if you really pay attention to the way he moves. It’s mind-boggling. 

Just then, there’s a loud thud and a familiar sound of someone tumbling down the stairs for the second time. Only this time, a different voice grumbles in frustration. 

“That’ll be Zayn, then,” Niall says, a fond smile on his face. 

“Don’t tell him I said this,” Zayn says, walking into the kitchen, “but Liam’s right about that box being completely in the way-- Oh. Hi.” 

He looks between Niall and the two of them, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. 

“I didn’t realize they were here already,” he adds.

Zayn isn’t anything like Louis pictured last night. He’s got beautiful, olive skin, and even more gorgeous hair, dark and slicked back in an outdated hairstyle. He’s got on tight black jeans and a leather jacket, and there’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear. It doesn’t take long to realize that Zayn doesn’t fit in this decade at all, but in one that he’s seen in one of his favorite movies many times. Zayn looks like he’s straight out of Grease, which makes Louis smile, just for a moment. 

He pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, and it’s got the same strange transparency as the rest of his and Niall’s bodies. He fits it between his lips and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

Louis turns knowingly to see Harry crinkle his nose in disgust, and Zayn pauses. 

“Something wrong, love?” Zayn says, his voice dripping with amusement. 

Louis holds his breath, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Harry shakes his head. “Shouldn’t smoke those,” he says, his voice steady. “It’ll kill you.”

Zayn smirks, not even trying to be shy about it. He flicks his thumb twice against the lighter’s edge, letting the flame burn the tip of his cigarette before tucking it back away into his pocket. 

“‘s a good thing I’m already dead then, yeah?”

Harry squeaks. Louis rolls his lips around his teeth to hide his grin. 

There’s a loud thundering sound then, and both of them jump, squeezing closer together. Harry reaches out to grab Louis’ arm, and Niall laughs quietly. 

“This’ll be easy, then,” Louis hears Niall mumble under this breath, but he doesn’t have the courage to ask what that’s supposed to mean. 

“And the rest of our merry little group joins us,” Niall says, taking on the voice of a TV talk-show host or something. “It’s Liam!”

Zayn claps dramatically when someone, Liam, walks into the kitchen grumbling. 

“You both suck.” 

Liam looks like he doesn’t belong in this decade, much less this century, and it’s hard to pin point exactly when he’s from. He’s wearing a simple white, long-sleeved shirt, and his hair is cut in a sensible buzzcut, the sides having a distinct fade to it. His pants look ancient though, some sort of brown material that’s unlike anything Louis’ ever seen before. There are matching brown suspenders that go over his shoulders and clip to his strange trousers. He must be from a time before even his mum’s youngest years, because he doesn’t remember anyone looking like this in those photos. 

He turns to look at Harry and Louis. “Oh, hello.” He bows, actually bows, in greeting. Louis doesn’t know what the hell is going on. 

Harry gives a tiny bow in response, smiling weakly. “Um, hi.”

Louis waves. He’s not got the best manners, maybe, but these are also ghosts, so. 

“Are you going to be staying the night?” Niall asks cheerily, two pizza slices already missing from the box. “We’ll leave you alone, mostly.”

“If, uh-- we will, if that’s okay.” Louis gestures towards the living room. “We can just sleep on the floor where we were last night.”

Liam snorts. Louis doesn’t know why that’s so funny. 

“Sure,” Niall says, a smirk dancing on his lips. “That’ll be fine.” 

Louis is suspicious, but he’s not about to piss them off, so he nods and gives them a smile. He feels much more relaxed than he did when they got here, and he barely remembers that the house is almost completely dark until one of their flashlights gives out. 

“Shit,” Louis says, shaking the flashlight in his hands. “Ah, what a piece of--”

He looks up when lights turn on suddenly. There’s a light bulb in the center of the room that they didn’t notice before, and it brings the whole room to life. 

“How did you do that?” Harry asks. 

Niall smiles brilliantly, and there’s something wicked behind it. “We can do anything, really, if we put our mind to it.”

__

Two hours later, and Louis finds himself on the second story of a mansion, following behind three of the nicest people he’s ever met. People that happen to be ghosts. 

Harry’s holding onto his arm, like he has been for a majority of the night here so far, while they’re given a tour of the upstairs. They hadn’t dared to come up here last night, with the windows boarded up - it seemed like off limits territory. This is where the three ghosts have made a home for themselves, they learn, which explains the windows being blocked off. 

They’ve also learned, in the last couple of hours, that all three of them died in this house. It’s just like the ghost stories Louis has always been told - if you die in the house, you’re stuck for eternity. Liam has been here since the 20s, when he died in a bar fight in the house’s basement that used to be a speakeasy. Some giant, drunk bloke beat the shit out of him, and he barely even remembers it. Zayn, Louis was right, is from the 50s, and he died in an extremely fitting way, Harry and Louis both agree - he’d been in the garage working on his hot rod (direct quote), when his lit cigarette fell from his mouth into a puddle of gasoline, and, well. It explains why there’s no longer a garage, at least. 

Niall’s story is Louis’ favorite of all, and honestly, he wouldn’t have expected anything less. Niall’s band had been practicing their own rendition of a Bon Jovi song, true to the 80s, when Niall had been in the moment and decided that the most rockstar thing to do would be to jump from the second story balcony, guitar in hand. It ended well, clearly. 

They all make jokes about the unfortunate ends to their lives, embellishing their stories and reenacting moments for Harry and Louis. There’s still something eerie about them, seeing as they’re not alive and all, but there’s something charming about the three of them as well. Louis likes the group, which he didn’t expect. He’s having fun, genuinely. 

Harry is too, Louis knows, since he’s chatting away with Zayn as if he’s a real person. He kind of is, really, because he’s intellectual in a way that neither of them expected, and he seems to be very in tune with his emotions. He draws, which explains the artwork in the room they stayed in (or, got locked in, rather) last night. 

Zayn slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Louis sees Harry visibly flinch for just a second, surprised. Louis wonders if he can feel Zayn’s arm on him, or if it just feels like air. They aren’t -- these aren’t real humans, of course, so it’s tricky. Louis is still not really understanding how this is actually happening, or any of the logistics. Zayn and Harry walk ahead of everyone, and Liam steps off into his own room for a minute so it’s just Niall and Louis walking together. Louis keeps his eyes on Harry, a tiny feeling of jealousy in his chest that he tries to ignore. He’s not _jealous_ of a ghost, christ. He just wants to be walking with Harry, that’s all. 

Niall laughs quietly from next to Louis, mumbling. Louis gives him a questioning look. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Niall holds his hands up, defensive.

“I know,” Louis says slowly. Niall is smiling, his eyes twinkling in a way that humans’ don’t. He’s got too much charm, Niall does. “But, why did you laugh?” 

“‘s just funny, you pining over him.” 

Louis stops walking. Niall takes a few more steps before he realizes that Louis isn’t with him anymore, and he spins around to face him. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, challenging. 

“I’m-- What? I’m not! We’re best mates.” Louis realizes that he sounds defensive, and Niall smirks. 

Louis huffs, frustrated. Niall isn’t _listening_ at all, for one, and also, they’ve just met. Niall can’t possibly know everything. More importantly, Niall is a fucking ghost. 

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I mean, you do realize I’m technically a spirit, right? I can sense all of that love shit. Can’t hide from me.” Niall shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way. 

Oh, Louis thinks. That’s just great. 

It’s not like he’s completely oblivious to whatever dumb crush he’s had on Harry - it isn’t exactly new. The second he met Harry, he knew that he was charming and gorgeous and all of the things that Louis used to think about Chad Michael Murray when he was a pre-teen. Harry is real though, hugging Louis and making him tea every morning and making him laugh. It isn’t fair, not one bit. He’s never said anything, obviously, which is exactly what Niall asks him next.

“No,” Louis answers, shaking his head quickly. “Of course not. And would you keep it down? Fuck, you might as well just yell it out.”

“Oh, you think?” Niall raises his voice, yelling, “What? That you’re in lo--”

“I know you’re already dead, but I will kill you, Casper.” Louis says, without much heat behind it. Niall laughs, clearly unphased. 

“You should tell him.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mm, probably should.”

“No.”

“Come on, Louis. Listen, I spent like, six years waiting for Zayn to ask me out, and turns out, he’d been waiting for me ever since I moved into this damn house. Even when I was, like, human.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at that. He hadn’t even realized they were together, but now that it’s confirmed, it makes a lot of sense. He had an idea, but it wasn’t like he could come right out and ask. He makes a mental note to tell Harry about this later - he loves a good story about falling in love. 

“We just aren’t like that,” Louis says, deflating noticeably. 

Niall rolls his eyes and groans. Louis looks around, wondering if Zayn and Harry can hear them. They’re nowhere to be found. 

“Please. We spent all of last night making sure that you two were nice and cozy with each other, and we barely had to _do_ anything. You two, like, fucking gravitate towards each other.” 

Louis stares at Niall, his face blank. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing. Listen, just, think about it, okay? How often do you get advice from a ghost? That has to count for something. Trust me, you guys are meant to be together. It’s almost creepy.” 

Niall thinks he and Harry are creepy, then. Which is rich, coming from someone who has been dead for nearly thirty years. 

Louis nods, and Niall claps a hand on his back. Louis answers his own question from earlier, then, barely feeling a touch on his back. It feels almost like someone is resting something soft there, but not like someone slapping down a hand. Ghosts are strange, he thinks.

Liam comes around the corner then, breathing heavily. He’s carrying a large book, and when he sees Louis, he slides it behind his back and clears his throat. Niall laughs quietly and turns, walking ahead to find Harry and Zayn. Louis follows, because now Liam has started to walk with Niall, and he isn’t too keen on standing in a dark hallway alone. 

They find them in another dark hallway, surprise surprise, a few doors down. Zayn is pointing out art on the walls to Harry, and Louis wonders if these are his paintings too. 

Harry turns and sees the other three boys - well, boy and ghosts - approaching, and he lights up. Louis tries not to let that make him blush, but it’s clearly a lost cause when Niall snickers from beside him. 

“Hi,” Harry says, knocking his hip against Louis’. 

Louis looks at him and he can’t shake what Niall said. He reminds himself not to listen to ghosts anymore. 

“Hi, babe. What’s that room?” Louis asks, touching his fingertips lightly to Harry’s elbow and pointing. 

Harry shrugs, peeking his head inside the doorway just next to them. It’s dark, they can tell that much. 

Niall hums, a smirk on his lips. “Hm, never seen that room before.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows at Niall, because he is the least subtle ghost in the entire universe, despite that Louis has only met three. The blond jabs an elbow into Liam’s side. 

Liam coughs. “Oh, yeah. Weird. Check it out, you two. I have to show Zayn something anyway, we’ll be right in.”

Harry walks into the room, much too trusting, and Louis follows, because he can’t very well just let him go in alone. They’ve not got their flashlights anymore, as both of them burned out, and they’d been travelling through the house by a couple of lanterns that Zayn grabbed from his bedroom. The room they’re in now, without the light from the lantern’s bulb, is completely submerged in darkness. 

It is even more dark when the door slams shut behind them, the cackling of three ghosts coming from the other side. 

Louis runs into Harry’s back, yelping and reaching out to fit his hands around his hips. He can’t see a bloody thing. He stands still, and he can feel Harry whipping his head back and forth frantically. He’s never liked the dark. 

“Come on, let us out!”

Louis thought that they’d become friends, that they’d move passed the stages of getting locked into strange rooms in this house, but apparently he was mistaken. 

Niall’s gleeful laughter is heard in the walls again, and suddenly there’s a flicker of light across the room. Louis peers around Harry and sees a single candle lit. It’s setting on a nightstand, next to a bed, and they’re in a bedroom, right. 

“Niall,” Louis says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know where you are, but if you could let us out--”

“Hm, don’t think so. Not until you think long and hard on what we talked about.”

The ghost cackles loudly again, and then suddenly the room is completely quiet, aside from their own heavy breathing. 

Harry turns around to face Louis, the best he can in the dark, his face barely illuminated from the glow of the candle. He looks as confused as Louis feels. 

“What did you talk about?” 

Louis can feel heat creeping up his neck, onto his cheeks. “I don’t know what he means, to be honest.”

Harry squints his eyes at him, but accepts it. He turns and walks towards the bed, sitting down on it with a sigh. “Why does this keep happening? It’s not like there’s any purpose in keeping us stuck in one place.”

If this were a cartoon, a lightbulb would’ve just gone off above Louis’ head. There is a lot of purpose in keeping them in one place, together, he realizes now. They’ve been doing this the whole time - keeping them pressed together and spooking them enough so they cuddle close. They’re very slick, for ghosts, at least. He’d been distracted, by the whole haunted mansion filled with ghosts drama, but had he been paying attention, he probably could’ve picked up on this. 

He sighs. “Dunno, mate.” 

He sits next to Harry on the bed, and they’re silent for a minute. It’s been a long night. Louis’ phone is dead, so he’s not sure what the time is exactly, but not long ago it was just nearing one in the morning. He doesn’t feel tired, not really, but he leans his head on Harry’s shoulder anyway. 

That’s when the music starts. 

“Is that--” Harry stops, pausing to listen. The music is very faint, and they only hear it when they quiet their breathing completely. “Is that music?”

Louis listens carefully, and sure enough, music seems to be coming from nowhere, filling the room with quiet noise. It’s hard to make out what exactly the song is, but it sounds vaguely like “At Last” by Etta James, and he could honestly kill them. Kill them again, that is. 

The music starts to get a bit louder, and Louis’ ears were right. “Oh my god,” Harry says, recognizing the song. “Romantic, innit.” He waggles his eyebrows at Louis.

Louis groans. “You’re the worst.”

“Turn the page, Liam.” Louis hears Niall mumbling impatiently just outside the door. “Okay, you do this one.”

Louis waits, wanting to know what they’re talking about. Just then, another candle lights, this one on a vanity across the room. 

He hears them laughing, clearly getting a real kick out of their meddling. 

Harry shifts, clearly catching on that something is up, and Louis lifts his head. “Lou, what was Niall--”

“They’re just being stupid,” Louis says, not waiting for Harry to finish his question. “It’s nothing.”

Harry gives Louis a stern look, as stern as someone so intimidatingly adorable could look, and waits for more of an explanation. “Louis.”

“Niall, or I guess all of them, they think, like--”

Louis runs a nervous hand through his hair. He knows very well that they won’t let them out of here until he just plays along. He’d rather things be a little awkward for a while rather than have to stay in this room for who knows how long. He knows that Harry doesn’t feel the same, which is fine, it’s just so agonizing to have to say out loud, “I’ve had a massive crush on you for the last five years or so, cheers”. He opens his mouth to continue explaining, but Harry interrupts. 

“They think we should be together.” 

Louis fish-mouths for a moment before slowly nodding. Did Harry hear everything? Oh, god. This could potentially be getting worse.

Harry smiles, his eyes bright. “Yeah, Zayn told me the same thing. Earlier, when we were walking.”

Louis can’t help but smile back, because this doesn’t feel awkward. Maybe it’s something they can laugh off, and then the ghosts will realize that they should be let out of this room immediately. 

“‘s pretty weird, sorry.”

Harry shrugs, looking down into his lap. He pulls his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and tucking his feet underneath his thighs, facing Louis now. Louis mimics his position, and then they’re just looking at each other. 

The music is still playing, Louis realizes. 

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Harry says quietly, lifting one shoulder. “I mean. You know.”

Louis doesn’t know, actually. “What?”

“Well, Zayn said they can sense things, I guess? So they, like, feel pretty strongly about it.” 

Louis feels like he’s diving into ice cold water, head first, when he looks up and meets Harry’s eyes. They’re completely honest, and Louis wants to tell him everything, suddenly. He wants to tell him that one time, their first year of uni, Harry fell asleep on the couch watching an animated movie, and it was the cutest thing Louis’ ever seen. He could tell him that nobody makes a fry-up like Harry does, not even his own mum. He could tell him that Harry treats him better than anyone has ever treated Louis in his entire life, and he’s probably loved him every day since they were teenagers. 

He doesn’t, of course, but he could. 

“Yeah, Niall said the same. Oh, did you know they’re together?”

Harry nods. “Could tell, yeah, but he told me. Said he spent a lot of time waiting for Niall, and that if I had feelings for you, I shouldn’t wait years.” 

Louis’ lungs are on fire. He doesn’t know if they’re just casually talking about this, or if this is an actual conversation that they’re having. Someone needs to bite the bullet, and that someone is Louis. 

“And?” He picks at a loose string on the seam of his jeans, blinking down at it. 

“And I told him that he was right. I’ve already done enough waiting, probably.” 

Harry says it so calmly, like his heart isn’t beating as hard in his chest as Louis’ is right now. Louis takes a deep breath and looks up at Harry. He looks so vulnerable, looking right at Louis and just waiting. He looks relaxed, though, like saying it out loud calmed him somehow. 

Louis loves him a lot, really. 

“Niall told me the same thing,” Louis says slowly. “Told him I’d think about it.” 

Harry smirks. “And?”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek. He knows that a lot of unbelievable things have happened over the last couple of days, but this really blows everything out of the water. He feels like his body is buzzing all over. 

He doesn’t answer Harry so much as he just asks another question. He leans forward, just barely, and looks up at him again. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Harry grins, nodding. Louis feels like Etta James knows what she’s talking about, because _fuck_ , at last is right.

Harry leans forward before Louis even gets a chance to, and when their lips meet, Louis is almost surprised by the feeling. He can’t believe he’s kissing Harry Styles, in a haunted mansion of all places, where they’ve spent the last two nights inadvertently befriending ghosts. Harry presses his lips against Louis’ like he never wants them to separate, and Louis understands. Their lips slot together perfectly, and Harry brings up a hand to rest on the side of Louis’ face, his thumb stroking over his jaw. He parts his lips just enough to take Harry’s bottom one in between them, and he kisses him like that slowly. Louis never wants to stop kissing him, never wants to lose this thrill of kissing him for the first time after thinking it would never happen. 

He’ll never tell the ghosts, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they were right about this. 

They pull back at the same time, not going far before Louis kisses Harry’s lips gently a few times, just revelling in the fact that he’s doing it at all. 

When they do finally sit back to look at each other, they just grin, probably looking ridiculous to anyone else. Louis can’t believe his luck. 

He can’t believe his lack of luck sometimes, too. Right on cue (almost as if they could hear and see everything, Louis notes), the three ghosts make themselves present in the room, their lanterns giving the entire room light. 

Louis doesn’t get to see them actually appear out of thin air, like he expects they did, which he regrets missing. Not too much, though, because Harry had been staring right at him like he wanted to kiss him senseless, and he really would’ve regretted missing that. He smiles at Harry before tearing his eyes away to glare in the ghosts’ direction.

“May we help you?” he deadpans, cracking a smirk when Liam looks horribly offended.

“Are you kidding? I just nearly broke my arm getting that book of spells down from the attic, thanks for asking, so that we could help, and we don’t even get a thank you?” Liam asks incredulously. Niall is laughing into his hand, and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I can’t believe you two actually did it,” Zayn says.

“Can you really not?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes. “With all the meddling you three did? You know for ghosts, you’re not very sneaky.”

Zayn just smiles sweetly, grabbing Niall’s hand. Louis shakes his head, laughing along with Harry. It’s weird, he thinks, that the ghosts almost feel like-- Well, they feel like friends now. They were pretty damn scary at first, but they’re so kind. Friendliest ghosts he’s ever known, and Louis used to watch Casper a lot as a kid. Like, a lot. 

“Thanks, you lot. Seriously,” Harry says, reaching out and grabbing Louis’ hand, giving it a squeeze. It’s like he’s emphasizing what the thanks are for, and it makes Louis smile wide. 

“What a story we get to tell, yeah?” Louis says after a moment of silence.

The five of them laugh together, and Louis thinks, now, that he’s so glad Gemma dared them to go into this stupid house in the first place. Not what he was expecting, exactly, but not a terrible outcome. He could’ve died, he supposes, but instead he walks out of there getting to kiss Harry Styles whenever he wants. 

When Harry calls Gemma the next day, to tell her that he and Louis are a bit more than friends now, somewhat thanks to her, she scoffs. 

“‘s about time. Why do you think I dared you two together, anyway, baby brother?”

**Author's Note:**

> eeep! hope you enjoy your halloween! 
> 
> quick sidenote, i don’t usually respond to every single comment i get but please know i read them (sometimes more than once) and appreciate anyone who reads my fic so much. so much. I think it’s the coolest fucking thing that people all over the world take time out of their day to read my writing and to leave such incredibly kind comments/messages all the time. love you guys lots. sap sap sap /o\ find me on tumblr at [soleilouis](https://www.soleilouis.tumblr.com)


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